[Fic] "NFE 2013 False Starts" -- Chronicles of Narnia
Here, as a historical curiosity, are three stories I didn't write for snacky last summer, and a slightly misdirected trial version of the one I did end up finishing.
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Take 1 - King Lune and Queen Elwen visit Cair Paravel (150 words)
"Be welcome to Cair Paravel, sir, my lady," Susan says. Her left hand is clenched bloodless behind her back even as she holds her right hand forward, palm up, in greeting and peace. She wonders if she should curtsey. Surely a girl should show courtesy to a king and queen. But she is a queen, too, now, and Narnia has so little to stand on besides her threadbare dignity.
Susan settles for dipping her head.
Queen Elwen bows her head in return, and King Lune bends graciously to take Susan's hand and press a kiss to the air over her wrist. "'Tis pleasing beyond words to see our sister land freed of her shackles," Lune says. "We had not looked for such a chance these many years, and now we hear the Lion himself hast been seen on these shores once more."
-----
(That was a more direct response to the "Susan's role in Narnian politics" part of Snacky's prompt, scrapped because the scene just wasn't coming alive in my head. Also, writing Lune? Not easy!)
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Take 2 - Susan visits the Lone Isles to reestablish Narnian sovereignty (650 words)
"I still say I should be the one to go," Peter said as Susan finished stowing her court clothes in the port stern cabin of the hired Galmian ship. "The Lone Islanders' response to our letter was hostile to say the least, and you don't present a very intimidating front."
"That is the entire point," Susan said for the dozenth time. "If we meet suspicion and affront with a threat, we'll be at war before we can blink. Narnia can't afford a war. We have yet to fully recover from the drought and floods of our first year, the army is still occupied rooting out the last remnants of the Witch's followers, and as you may note by the flag this ship flies, we have no navy. Flattery and misdirection are more useful tools right now."
"We can't afford to seem weak in the eyes of our neighbors, either. That will lead to war just as surely in the end," Peter said, crossing his arms. The ship rocked gently with the waves, even at rest in the rebuilt harbor across the river mouth from Cair Paravel, and his sword knocked against his knee with every shift and sway. Susan's fingers itched to reposition the blade. She resisted the impulse. Dignity was one of the few weapons she and Peter had to counter the disadvantage of their youth, and fussing wouldn't help.
"Munich?" she asked instead, summoning memories of their previous home. They had come from one war into another, and while she had loathed the helpless fear that had sent her family fleeing London, some days she thought she had preferred being a powerless child to being the one expected to resolve a nation's woes.
Peter's hand drifted toward the hilt of his sword. "We have no tanks or planes in this world, nor did England have magic, but people are people whether they go on two legs or four."
"And people can be persuaded to change their minds," Susan said, sitting on her temporary bed since this conversation seemed likely to drag on (as it had every time before, though she and Edmund had argued Peter into the ground and Lucy had pointed out that Peter hated being confined to a ship for long voyages in any case). "The Lone Islands have been in limbo for a hundred years, cut off from Narnia by the Witch's barrier spells yet caught in an echo of her winter by their affiliation with the crown. It's only natural that their inhabitants would regard us with suspicion, particularly since I doubt they have the resources to pay the century of tribute dues we're officially owed."
She spread her hands, as if presenting an idea for his consideration. "Consider Archenland: King Lune could have claimed recompense for the grievous losses the Witch inflicted upon his grandfather's army, or for the expense of hosting a tide of Narnian refugees, but he extended a hand of friendship instead and already we've repaid him by coordinating our border patrols to better track the Witch's remnants."
Peter sighed. "I know. You and Ed made your points quite irrefutably. I still dislike this. What if your hand of friendship is refused? What if the Lone Islanders have already decided upon war? What if all goes wrong and you're a hundred leagues and more out of reach?"
Susan shrugged. "First, I'm not alone. I have guards, as you well know since you chose them yourself. Second, I'm not a fool. I have no intent to set foot on the islands and relinquish the chance of a quick escape until I have more assurance that I will meet a civil reception. Third, I may not ride to war like you and Edmund do (and Lucy wishes to), but that doesn't mean I'm unable to fight when pressed."
Peter's gaze darted to her bow and quiver, hung neatly upon the cabin wall, then returned to her. "I take your point," he conceded.
-----
(That was an attempt to combine an ocean travel story, a Pevensies-outside-Narnia story, and a Susan-plays-politics story. I scrapped it because I had no plot and judging by the opening, this scenario needed a plot and would've run long -- possibly on the same scale as "Out of Season" and "To Every Thing There Is a Season," which I couldn't afford.)
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Take 3 - the immediate aftermath of LWW (300 words)
After the coronation, Cair Paravel emptied with eerie speed, Narnians returning to their magically snow-free homes to inspect the changes and dredge up old memories of what work spring and summer demand from a sylvan and agricultural people. Susan and her siblings were left with a handful of those who had spent decades as statues and had no homes left to reclaim, and perhaps three dozen soldiers to guard against the remnants of the Witch's army. The bulk of the rebel army had already dispersed, with the exception of another dozen or so who had set out in two groups to explore the borders now that the Witch's spell no longer kept the wider world out as it kept the winter in.
This was four dozen people more than the castle could feed. There were no storehouses. There were no shops. There was no trade. There was nothing in the land to tax.
The Witch's spell had been weakest along the shore, and the merpeople had smuggled in what goods they could protect against the salt water. The dwarfs had done their best to farm in shallow caverns, letting sunlight in through glass and quartz and building fires to warm the sickly grain and root vegetables, not to mention the acres of mushrooms that preferred the darkness. The dryads and naiads had likewise done what they could to keep plants and fish alive through the blizzards, taking every advantage of the occasional thaws and milder weeks. But all that had been barely enough to keep a scattered, downtrodden population alive from hand to mouth.
(Susan wondered about the Beavers and their butter, wondered very hard, but she held her peace. They had served Aslan when it mattered, as Tumnus had, which was what truly counted. Nonetheless, she was glad they had no interest in politics and had returned home to their lodge.)
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(I have no idea what triggered this fragment, but it had no plot and would have heavily overlapped "Dedication," not to mention it doesn't really have anything to do with Snacky's prompts, so I scrapped it and tried again.)
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Take 4 - a recognizable first attempt at "Into Something Rich and Strange" (400 words)
The Eastern Door of Cair Paravel opened directly onto the sea, so the saying went, but this was not strictly true. For one thing, Cair Paravel sat a good hundred feet above the water even at high tide, and for another, building a door onto the sea is only asking for storm damage. Instead the door of the great hall (which was not the same as the banqueting hall, for castles built by magic do not have to follow logic and economy the way normal castles do) opened onto a narrow parapet walk over a cliff at the edge of the promontory upon which the castle sat. At the north end of that walk, a narrow, twisting stair led down the salt-stained rocks to the jagged shore, where the sea dashed itself heedlessly against the land with not a strip of sand to gentle its blows.
A little cupola had been carved at the foot of the stair, paved with slate and ringed with granite merlons between which a person could dangle his or her feet to feel the lick of waves at high tide and the misty spray when the sea retreated.
Susan Pevensie, Queen of Narnia, stood there wrapped in a woolen cloak to ward off the spray, speaking with a party of the mer-folk who had come to report on the progress of the breakwater at the south edge of the Great River.
"I thank you, as does all of Narnia," Susan said when the report was concluded. "Glasswater harbor has served us well this past year, as has the trade upon the Shribble to the north, but the reach of those waters is small and they veer away from the heart of the country. When great ships can safely lie here at anchor, all Narnia will be enriched."
"Just so," the lead merwoman agreed in her singing silver voice, and her brother nodded his agreement. "We will meet again overmorrow when the tide runs in."
"Just so," Susan agreed.
The mer-folk swam away, their tails lashing powerfully against the force of the surging waves and their hair streaming in tangled nets about their arms and shoulders. Susan watched them depart and wondered, not for the first time, what it might be like to live with the sea in her blood and veins. She had always loved to swim, even before she and her siblings came to Narnia.
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(And here at last we see the bones of the final story begin to emerge! The only real change I made between this fragment and the actual rough draft of "Into Something Rich and Strange" was to cut out the extraneous merfolk and compress the time-frame so Susan went directly into the water.
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For the record, the first three fragments are more or less part of my unified Narnian timeline headcanon. I hesitate to make them fully official, since I may try to write actual finished stories around those ideas some day and those would doutbless overwrite bits of what I've written here (just as the finished version of "Into Something Rich and Strange" overwrote the trial version in this post), but they are part of my assumed background to stories set later in the Pevensies' reign.
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Take 1 - King Lune and Queen Elwen visit Cair Paravel (150 words)
"Be welcome to Cair Paravel, sir, my lady," Susan says. Her left hand is clenched bloodless behind her back even as she holds her right hand forward, palm up, in greeting and peace. She wonders if she should curtsey. Surely a girl should show courtesy to a king and queen. But she is a queen, too, now, and Narnia has so little to stand on besides her threadbare dignity.
Susan settles for dipping her head.
Queen Elwen bows her head in return, and King Lune bends graciously to take Susan's hand and press a kiss to the air over her wrist. "'Tis pleasing beyond words to see our sister land freed of her shackles," Lune says. "We had not looked for such a chance these many years, and now we hear the Lion himself hast been seen on these shores once more."
-----
(That was a more direct response to the "Susan's role in Narnian politics" part of Snacky's prompt, scrapped because the scene just wasn't coming alive in my head. Also, writing Lune? Not easy!)
---------------
---------------
Take 2 - Susan visits the Lone Isles to reestablish Narnian sovereignty (650 words)
"I still say I should be the one to go," Peter said as Susan finished stowing her court clothes in the port stern cabin of the hired Galmian ship. "The Lone Islanders' response to our letter was hostile to say the least, and you don't present a very intimidating front."
"That is the entire point," Susan said for the dozenth time. "If we meet suspicion and affront with a threat, we'll be at war before we can blink. Narnia can't afford a war. We have yet to fully recover from the drought and floods of our first year, the army is still occupied rooting out the last remnants of the Witch's followers, and as you may note by the flag this ship flies, we have no navy. Flattery and misdirection are more useful tools right now."
"We can't afford to seem weak in the eyes of our neighbors, either. That will lead to war just as surely in the end," Peter said, crossing his arms. The ship rocked gently with the waves, even at rest in the rebuilt harbor across the river mouth from Cair Paravel, and his sword knocked against his knee with every shift and sway. Susan's fingers itched to reposition the blade. She resisted the impulse. Dignity was one of the few weapons she and Peter had to counter the disadvantage of their youth, and fussing wouldn't help.
"Munich?" she asked instead, summoning memories of their previous home. They had come from one war into another, and while she had loathed the helpless fear that had sent her family fleeing London, some days she thought she had preferred being a powerless child to being the one expected to resolve a nation's woes.
Peter's hand drifted toward the hilt of his sword. "We have no tanks or planes in this world, nor did England have magic, but people are people whether they go on two legs or four."
"And people can be persuaded to change their minds," Susan said, sitting on her temporary bed since this conversation seemed likely to drag on (as it had every time before, though she and Edmund had argued Peter into the ground and Lucy had pointed out that Peter hated being confined to a ship for long voyages in any case). "The Lone Islands have been in limbo for a hundred years, cut off from Narnia by the Witch's barrier spells yet caught in an echo of her winter by their affiliation with the crown. It's only natural that their inhabitants would regard us with suspicion, particularly since I doubt they have the resources to pay the century of tribute dues we're officially owed."
She spread her hands, as if presenting an idea for his consideration. "Consider Archenland: King Lune could have claimed recompense for the grievous losses the Witch inflicted upon his grandfather's army, or for the expense of hosting a tide of Narnian refugees, but he extended a hand of friendship instead and already we've repaid him by coordinating our border patrols to better track the Witch's remnants."
Peter sighed. "I know. You and Ed made your points quite irrefutably. I still dislike this. What if your hand of friendship is refused? What if the Lone Islanders have already decided upon war? What if all goes wrong and you're a hundred leagues and more out of reach?"
Susan shrugged. "First, I'm not alone. I have guards, as you well know since you chose them yourself. Second, I'm not a fool. I have no intent to set foot on the islands and relinquish the chance of a quick escape until I have more assurance that I will meet a civil reception. Third, I may not ride to war like you and Edmund do (and Lucy wishes to), but that doesn't mean I'm unable to fight when pressed."
Peter's gaze darted to her bow and quiver, hung neatly upon the cabin wall, then returned to her. "I take your point," he conceded.
-----
(That was an attempt to combine an ocean travel story, a Pevensies-outside-Narnia story, and a Susan-plays-politics story. I scrapped it because I had no plot and judging by the opening, this scenario needed a plot and would've run long -- possibly on the same scale as "Out of Season" and "To Every Thing There Is a Season," which I couldn't afford.)
---------------
---------------
Take 3 - the immediate aftermath of LWW (300 words)
After the coronation, Cair Paravel emptied with eerie speed, Narnians returning to their magically snow-free homes to inspect the changes and dredge up old memories of what work spring and summer demand from a sylvan and agricultural people. Susan and her siblings were left with a handful of those who had spent decades as statues and had no homes left to reclaim, and perhaps three dozen soldiers to guard against the remnants of the Witch's army. The bulk of the rebel army had already dispersed, with the exception of another dozen or so who had set out in two groups to explore the borders now that the Witch's spell no longer kept the wider world out as it kept the winter in.
This was four dozen people more than the castle could feed. There were no storehouses. There were no shops. There was no trade. There was nothing in the land to tax.
The Witch's spell had been weakest along the shore, and the merpeople had smuggled in what goods they could protect against the salt water. The dwarfs had done their best to farm in shallow caverns, letting sunlight in through glass and quartz and building fires to warm the sickly grain and root vegetables, not to mention the acres of mushrooms that preferred the darkness. The dryads and naiads had likewise done what they could to keep plants and fish alive through the blizzards, taking every advantage of the occasional thaws and milder weeks. But all that had been barely enough to keep a scattered, downtrodden population alive from hand to mouth.
(Susan wondered about the Beavers and their butter, wondered very hard, but she held her peace. They had served Aslan when it mattered, as Tumnus had, which was what truly counted. Nonetheless, she was glad they had no interest in politics and had returned home to their lodge.)
-----
(I have no idea what triggered this fragment, but it had no plot and would have heavily overlapped "Dedication," not to mention it doesn't really have anything to do with Snacky's prompts, so I scrapped it and tried again.)
---------------
---------------
Take 4 - a recognizable first attempt at "Into Something Rich and Strange" (400 words)
The Eastern Door of Cair Paravel opened directly onto the sea, so the saying went, but this was not strictly true. For one thing, Cair Paravel sat a good hundred feet above the water even at high tide, and for another, building a door onto the sea is only asking for storm damage. Instead the door of the great hall (which was not the same as the banqueting hall, for castles built by magic do not have to follow logic and economy the way normal castles do) opened onto a narrow parapet walk over a cliff at the edge of the promontory upon which the castle sat. At the north end of that walk, a narrow, twisting stair led down the salt-stained rocks to the jagged shore, where the sea dashed itself heedlessly against the land with not a strip of sand to gentle its blows.
A little cupola had been carved at the foot of the stair, paved with slate and ringed with granite merlons between which a person could dangle his or her feet to feel the lick of waves at high tide and the misty spray when the sea retreated.
Susan Pevensie, Queen of Narnia, stood there wrapped in a woolen cloak to ward off the spray, speaking with a party of the mer-folk who had come to report on the progress of the breakwater at the south edge of the Great River.
"I thank you, as does all of Narnia," Susan said when the report was concluded. "Glasswater harbor has served us well this past year, as has the trade upon the Shribble to the north, but the reach of those waters is small and they veer away from the heart of the country. When great ships can safely lie here at anchor, all Narnia will be enriched."
"Just so," the lead merwoman agreed in her singing silver voice, and her brother nodded his agreement. "We will meet again overmorrow when the tide runs in."
"Just so," Susan agreed.
The mer-folk swam away, their tails lashing powerfully against the force of the surging waves and their hair streaming in tangled nets about their arms and shoulders. Susan watched them depart and wondered, not for the first time, what it might be like to live with the sea in her blood and veins. She had always loved to swim, even before she and her siblings came to Narnia.
-----
(And here at last we see the bones of the final story begin to emerge! The only real change I made between this fragment and the actual rough draft of "Into Something Rich and Strange" was to cut out the extraneous merfolk and compress the time-frame so Susan went directly into the water.
---------------------------------------------
For the record, the first three fragments are more or less part of my unified Narnian timeline headcanon. I hesitate to make them fully official, since I may try to write actual finished stories around those ideas some day and those would doutbless overwrite bits of what I've written here (just as the finished version of "Into Something Rich and Strange" overwrote the trial version in this post), but they are part of my assumed background to stories set later in the Pevensies' reign.
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)